Sick World: The 345th Annual Hunger Games
by SurvivalAboveAll
Summary: Idolizing distorted beauty, enjoying the brutal deaths of our children… What a sick world has the human kind created. (SYOT Open)
1. Prologue

_Sick World: The 345th Annual Hunger Games_

 _Prologue_

* * *

 **Fausta Grace Radiance, President of Panem**

She gazed at her reflection but she did not see what the fashion experts saw, she did not see what the Capitol saw; why they idolized her so much. Instead of slim she saw underweight and instead of pretty she saw false beauty. Her eyes would roam critically from one feature to another and catalog it in her brain. She went under countless plastic surgeries; her lips became fuller, her nose smaller, her eyes bigger and they lost their natural color. She looked nothing like she used to. These deformed features, were they really necessary to meet the beauty standards of today's society?

The woman ran her hand through her arctic blue locks and turned away from her mirror. She walked to her desk, struggling to keep her balance. It was like some sort of outer body experience. Her legs wouldn't work as she told them; they were swaying left and right, moving of their own accord

Even though it seemed so, she wasn't drunk. But she no longer knew how to walk without her heels.

She let herself drop into the chair, which reminded her more of an armchair than a swivel chair, and fished out her heels from under her desk. She put them on, and looked at the clock hanging on the white wall of her office. Her meeting with the Gamemakers was about to start.

A light knock was heard from the door.

"Enter," she said, almost in a robotic manner. A man with bizarre light pink skin stepped in.

"Madam President, it's time."

Fausta sighed internally. In the end, her looks didn't hold much importance. She was a mere tool. Her only purpose in life was to ensure the entertainment of the Capitol; to never let the Hunger Games reach its end.

She stood up and left her office, with the pink skinned man following closely behind.

Idolozing distorted beauty, enjoying the brutal deaths of our children…

What a sick world has the human kind created.

* * *

 **Hello everyone and welcome to the 345th Hunger Games! I've been itching to try my hand at a SYOT for a while now (I even planned on doing a series a couple of years back but never got around to it), so here I am. You can find the form to submit tributes on my profile, along with a couple of useful information regarding this AU. This is not a first come first serve, so take your time creating your tributes. I can't wait to meet them!**

 **May the odds be ever in your favor!**


	2. Prologue II

_Sick World: The 345th Annual Hunger Games_

 _Prologue II._

* * *

 **Fausta Grace Radiance, President of Panem**

Eleven o'clock turned into twelve then one. The time trickled away almost painfully slowly. Her mind was blank, yet sleep didn't claim her. She lay in her bed motionlessly, surrounded by the expensive bedsheets, hoping that the impossible will happen. She wanted to rest, yet it wasn't possible.

With a heavy sigh, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. The neon lights of the Capitol lit the dark room just enough for her to find the medicine on her nightstand. She gulped down a handful of them, way more than her doctor prescribed.

While she waited for the medicine to make its effects, she stared out her window with unfocused eyes. She heard some rumors today. The officials called her many deteriorating things, but brainless she was not. She knew all too well what everyone was doing behind her back, she just choose to ignore them. It was easier that way. No one would listen to her personal opinions anyway. Females were inferior to males. She only existed to keep up the appearance that the genders were equal.

What would happen if she suddenly stopped to exist, she pondered. Probably nothing. The officials would choose a successor and Panem would almost instantly forget about her. So the question was: was it worth living such an empty life?

Her train of thoughts halted as her head hit the pillow softly. Her chest raised and fell rhythmically.

She would find the answer to her question another day.

Because finally, the much awaited sleep claimed her.

* * *

 **Heeeey~! I brought another short prologue for you while I'm waiting for more submissions. You can send in up to three tributes, so keep the submissions coming! There are a lot of open spots!  
**


	3. Chapter 1: District 5 Reaping

**Hey, guys! I'm back and I've brought you the District 5 Reaping! Since I think that writing out all of the 12 Reapings from the tributes' point of view could become repetitive, I'm trying out something new. I'm going to write everything in the former victors' point of view up to the point where they arrive to the Capitol. After that, I'll switch to the tributes' POVs. I think that getting to know them gradually through their mentor's eyes is quite interesting. What do you say?**

* * *

 _Sick World: The 345th Annual Hunger Games_

 _Chapter 1: District 5 Reaping_

Two weeks before Reaping Day

 **Isaac Jupiter, Victor of the 311th Hunger Games**

I look around and the only thing that I see are the disgusted faces of people I barely know. I reek of alcohol. I know it, and so does everyone one else. I try to walk down the street, but no matter how many steps I take, I'm no closer to where I want to be. Profanities leave my mouth like there is no tomorrow, and something inside of my chest starts to ache. It's not from the alcohol, it's something much worse. Memories. Memories I'm trying desperately to forget.

I squeeze the bottle in my hand and raise it to take another mouthful of the burning liquid, only to find that it's empty. I growl and toss it to the side; people continue to eye me wryly, but I try to ignore them. I need another drink. I need to go home.

All of a sudden, a large man clothed in a white uniform appears in my field of vision. I scowl.

"What do you want, you piece of-"

Without a word, he grabs me by my upper arm and all but drags me towards the Victors' Village. I guess I should be thankful to some extent. He did help me to get to my destination faster.

The man walks up to my house, opening the front door without a second though and pushes me inside. I stumble for a couple of steps until I regain my balance.

"Woah woah. Easy there. I'm not a sack of potatoes!"

"No, you're not. You're a completely healthy human being, so you should start acting like one."

"Oh, it's you." I huff at the familiar voice as I somehow manage to walk into the living room without knocking anything over. I collapse onto the couch and stare at the Peacekeeper as he enters the room as well. "Why are you here, Hal?"

The man briefly hesitates before taking off his helmet. Black locks fall into his brown eyes, a worried expression spreads across his features. He looks around before returning his gaze at me.

It's messy, I know. I wasn't expecting visitors.

"I'm worried, Isaac. Look at yourself. Do you call this living?"

I sneer at him. "My life ended the moment I entered that goddamned arena. I'm barely surviving now. Why I keep fighting, I still don't know."

An incredulous laugh escaped Hal's lips. "I don't understand you."

"I'm not surprised. But look at yourself! A strong man with a well-paying job, doing everything in his power to give his family a somewhat normal life. How sweet."

Hal abruptly sits down in the armchair across from me. He's running out of patience. "Stop bringing it up, now will you! I'm doing this to protect District 5, our _home_. I'm not your enemy."

I shake my head. There is no point in continuing this conversation.

We weren't always like that. There was a time when me and Hal were close, best friends. But things happened; I was reaped for the 311th Hunger Games. I barely managed to survive, and when I finally came home, I had to face the fact that Hal has joined the newest "program" of our district. The Capitol allowed the males over 18 to train and become Peacekeepers. To protect their beloved. Bullshit. The Capitol just wanted to strengthen its grip on our district.

We barely ever talked since then.

"Whatever. How are your kids?" I start in a softer tone. Hal drops his shoulders in defeat. His son is of eligible age, 14, and his daughter is 11. One year from now, she will have one slip of paper with her name in that bowl.

"They are fine. Stylus… He wants to become a Peacekeeper too." He stops for a moment, but when I don't comment on it, he continues with a content smile. "I train him, to be better prepared for the program."

I nod solemnly as he proceeds to tell me more about his family, but halfway through I stop paying attention. I'll be damned if one of his kids get reaped and I'm not able to bring them back. I remember the faces of the children that I lost during the years and the ache is back in my chest.

I need a drink.

...

 **Ahnna Watt, Victor of the 331st Hunger Games**

It's noon, and the town square is full of life. The children are running around, happy that their classes are over, and I desperately try to keep to the side of the road. I dread them. Their animated gestures, squeaky voices and unpredictable nature scare me, that's no secret. Under normal circumstances I refuse to interact with them. Yet, there are times when I have no choice. I'm a mentor. It's my duty to bring back those little energetic demons alive.

Keeping an eye out, I continue towards my destination. I slip into the bakery without a sound, only to find that I'm not completely safe here either. I freeze. A short skinny girl with long brown hair is standing by the counter, waiting patiently for her product. Mrs. Foster smiles at her sweetly as she hands over the two steaming breads. The girl literally sparkles at the sight of fresh food, and leaves the shop with a bounce in her steps. She greets me as she steps out and I nod stiffly.

"Ahnna, darling. Relax. She's not gonna kill you."

My head snaps in her direction as I begin to tremble. "Bad choice of words, Mrs. Foster…" I manage to say between gritted teeth.

She laughs merrily. "I'm sorry. But she's such an innocent girl. After what happened to her brother, I'm surprised that she didn't break down. She's a strong one, alright."

"What… what happened to her brother?" I approach her tentatively.

"Oh, you don't know? One of Mackynzie's brothers died in the power plant explosion two years ago." The woman sighs heavily. "Imagine the pain she had to go through. Her family was devastated. It was around that time that her father-"

"Mrs. Foster, please stop. I don't want to know that girl's _whole_ life story." I growl. I'm not a fan of gossip.

"Of course. I assume you want the usual?"

I nod. She reaches under the counter and takes out a pack of donuts. They look plain, but I don't care about their appearance. The good stuff is inside. Mrs. Foster uses a _special ingredient_ for these. How she managed to put her hands on morphling in our district is beyond me, but I don't complain. Without District 6's drugs, I wouldn't be able to wake up every day and face reality.

I put the money on the counter and say goodbye to Mrs. Foster. As I exit the shop, I catch a glimpse of the Mackynzie girl chatting animatedly with three other girls; her friends, I assume. I shudder and turn in the opposite direction.

...

Reaping Day

 **Isaac Jupiter, Victor of the 311th Hunger Games**

Reaping day becomes more and more extravagant with each year. I eye the ridiculously colorful decoration, they look foreign against the town square's grays. I could never get used to them.

I came early, just like every year, afraid that if I stay home any longer, I'll end up coming to the event drunk. I wouldn't want to become the Capitol's laughing stock like a certain Haymitch Abernathy did almost two centuries ago.

I stomp up to the podium and take my designed seat. A couple of moments later, a Peacekeeper approaches me with hurried steps.

"It's good to see that you took my words to heart, Isaac. You look ten times better than you did two weeks ago."

"Don't you have work to do?" I glance up at Hal. "And isn't it prohibited to talk to acquaintances while wearing that uniform?"

Putting his hands on his hips, he shakes his head. I can almost imagine him smile under his helmet. "That's not something you need to worry about."

The square becomes livelier by the minute. I roam my eyes across the crowd; siblings gripping each other's hands, friends sticking close to one another, and parents following their children with their gaze like protective hawks. I saw this scene one too many times.

A pair of siblings catches my attention. A tall boy with a black mop of hair leads his sister through the crowd, their mother following close behind. He tries to go unnoticed but his height draws attention easily. He bows his head, refusing to look people in the eyes. "Your family?" I point at them with my chin.

"Yes…" I knew it. The boy, Stylus, looks just like Hal. "I should go. The event might start every moment now."

He nods and I let him walk away. I briefly register someone sitting down beside me, the only other chair reserved for the Victors. Ahnna, to put it simply, looks like shit. Her golden locks are unkempt, the dark circles under her eyes stand out against her pale complexion.

"The are so many…" she whimpers as she hugs herself tightly. I pat her shoulder sympathetically.

Finally, the Reaping begins. The mayor gives his yearly speech about Panem's _marvelous_ history then, allows our escort to take the stage. Her name is Giselle and she's been annoying me for a couple of years now with her chirpy voice. I always suspected that she went through a surgery to make her voice like that.

The cameras focus on Giselle. "Now, as tradition dictates, ladies first!"

The capitolite reaches into the bowl and takes out a slip of paper ever so slowly. The air is heavy with dreadful anticipation.

"Mackynzie Bertine!"

From my spot I easily notice the small disturbance among the adults stationed at the sidelines. A tall man is restrained by two Peacekeepers, his chest is raising and falling furiously as he stares in a certain direction. He's the father; there is no question about it; mad at fate, life and the Capitol. The cameras are ignoring him; instead they focus on a short girl among the 14 year olds. Unshed tears are present in her eyes, but she doesn't cry. She looks to her sides at the other girls then starts in the direction of the stage. The large screens show her heavy breathing and the fear in her eyes all too clearly. Once up, she remains motionless by Giselle.

Here she is; Ahnna's tribute.

I straighten my back and wait for the escort to walk over to the boys' bowl. "Stylus Fitzhugh!"

A cold sweat washes over me.

The boy comes in our direction with an emotionless mask, but I know that deep down he's just as scared as his future partner.

Fuck my life. That's Hal's son.

…

While the kids are saying their goodbyes, me and Ahnna stand side by side in one of the Town Hall's hallways. A thousand thought swirl around in my mind and all of them lead to the same conclusion: the universe hates me. If I don't manage to bring Stylus back…

I rest my forehead in my palms

"What is it?" I hear Ahnna's quiet voice.

"That boy… is the son of my best friend."

She doesn't say a thing, just puts a trembling hand on my shoulder. The prospect of being in close contact with children for the next few weeks really did terrify her, at least that's what her body language communicates.

Suddenly a loud thud and muffled voices fill the hall. The Peacekeepers are by Mackynzie's room almost immediately; without realizing it, Ahnna slowly starts to walk in the sound's direction. I stay put. I have someone I really need to talk to.

Just as I suspected, an all too familiar Peacekeeper walks up to me within only a couple of minutes. He takes off his helmet without hesitation, even though it could be punishable by death.

"You have to save him, Isaac. You need to!" Hal's desperate expression makes me wince.

"I know." I don't promise for a reason, and he knows. "I'll do everything in my power to keep your son safe."

"I already talked to him… He's… better prepared than most. With the right guidance he might—no, he _will_ win!"

"Hal." I squeeze his shoulders to emphasize my words. _"Leave it to me."_

He nods, lips wavering and tears threatening to fall. I wouldn't dare imagine what he's going through in this very moment.

"It's time, my dears! We are going to the Capitol!" A chirpy voice fills the halls.

Giving him a last reassuring pat on his shoulder, I walk past him in the direction of the exit.

I meet up with Ahnna along the way; Mackynzie is practically glued to her hips. I open my mouth to question it, but she holds up a hand.

"Her father punched a hole in the wall," she begins in a low voice so only I can hear. "I… I promised to protect her, that's why she won't—" Ahnna bits her lower lip as she glances at the 14 years old.

"Ahnna, you can't do that. It'll just make things harder later."

"I know. But her mother begged me. She'll break down completely if she loses another child."

I'm about to question her further but noticing that we arrived to the Town Hall's entrance, I decide against it. Stylus is already there, I smile at him sadly.

"You okay, kid?"

"Y-yeah…" He stutters and steals a nervous glance at the closed doors. Behind them, the cameras await, ready to show off our tributes to the whole world.

I put a hand on Stylus' back and the doors open.

I'll bring back a victor this year. I have to.

* * *

 **Here you have it! We'll get to know more about Mackynzie and Stylus and their personalities during the train ride, so stay tuned! Hope you liked it and remember to submit a tribute if you haven't already! The lack of tributes is the only thing keeping my from writing! (Besides university... but that's another thing.)**


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